My Lord Eternity (Immortal Rogues)

by Alexandra Ivy

  He let out a resigned sigh at her adamant expression. “Of course not. But you are forbidden ever to do such a thing again. My heart could not bear the strain.”

  Despite the welcome warmth that surrounded her, Jocelyn gave a violent shudder. It would be years before she would recall this day without a flare of fear.

  “I hope there shall be no need. Unless there are any other vampires stalking me?”

  He shifted so that his arms were locked firmly about her. “Not to my knowledge.”

  “Thank goodness.”

  With obvious reluctance Lucien turned to glance toward the faint remains of the powerful vampire. A brief anger flared over his elegant features before they softened with regret.

  “How did you conjure such a clever scheme?” he demanded softly.

  Jocelyn grimaced, pressing even closer to his hard body. She might feel deeply relieved that Amadeus was no longer a threat, but it was utterly unnervuttiv widthing to consider that she had brought death to anyone, even a vampire.

  “Not clever, only desperate. I recalled you saying that a vampire who had taken the life of a human could not bear sunlight.”

  “The bane of bloodlust,” he murmured.

  “But I had to lure him up here without alerting him to the trap,” she continued in uneven tones. “The Medallion was all I could think of.”

  “Yes.” Lucien gave a slow nod of his head. “He was so obsessed, he did not even consider his danger. Not until to was too late.”

  The memory of those pale, fevered eyes made her stomach clench in disgust. He had been obsessed. Even mad. He would have done anything to claim the Medallion as his own.

  “He is dead?” she demanded, needing to be reassured that it was truly at an end.

  “Quite dead.”

  She heaved a faint sigh. “I suppose that I should feel guilty. I have never deliberately harmed another before.”

  “No.” His gaze returned to her darkened eyes, his features suddenly grim. “He would have killed the both of us without thought and ravaged his way through England. He had to be halted.”

  Jocelyn winced as she recalled poor Molly and the other women who had been ruthlessly murdered by the vampire. Lucien was correct. She could not have allowed further innocents to be brutally tortured by Amadeus. He might even have attacked the children.

  The thought was enough to harden her heart.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He grimaced as he studied her shadowed eyes and the pain that still lingered.

  “I am sorry, however, that you were forced into such a position. I should have confronted him the moment I arrived in London.”

  Jocelyn frowned at the self-contempt that laced through his dark voice. She would not allow Lucien to blame himself. Not when he had nearly died attempting to save her.

  “Lucien.” She lifted her hand and pressed it to the side of his face. Her skin tingled as it encountered the satin warmth of his cheek. “You could not have known what he would do.”

  His own hand rose to cover her fingers, his golden eyes haunted with remembered pain.

  “I knew he was dangerous.”

  “Enough,” she said sharply.

  His brows lifted at the stubborn jut of her chin. “What?”

  “It is the past. We cannot change what has occurred. All we can do now is consider the future.”

  There was a long pause, almost as if he battled the urge to argue with her sensible words. Then the grimness of his features softened and the golden eyes were lit with that warm, rich light that so touched her heart.

  “When did you become so very wise?”

  Wise? Jocelyn gave a soft chuckle. No one could ever accuse her of being wise in the past. Not when she had so recklessly played the flirt with Lord Patten. Not when she had meekly allowed her parents to force her from her rightful place in their life. Nor even when she had determinedly set upon a new path without first accepting and forgiving the mistakes that she had made.

  But now . . . now she realized she possessed a wonderful clarity. She knew precisely what she desired from her life and whom she desired to share it with.

  Devoting her life to others was all well and good, but at the m, bly whaoment she wanted to think only of herself.

  And this wonderful, glorious gentleman at her side.

  “When you walked into my home and rented my garret,” she said with a smile.

  “Ah.” He reached down to softly brush his lips over her forehead before pulling back to regard her with a teasing expression. “I thought you were going to toss me back onto the streets.”

  “I desired to. I knew you were a dangerous gentleman the moment you entered the room. Only my need for your coin forced me to allow you to remain.”

  “Do not tell me that you love me only for my fortune,” he chided gently.

  “And your laughter. And your kindness. And your amazing ability to know my heart better than I know it myself.”

  He stilled, his fingers moving to trail over her cheek and down the length of jaw. Jocelyn could not halt the tiny shiver of response to his light caress.

  “And my kisses?” he prodded.

  Jocelyn forced herself to pretend to consider his words. “They are bearable, I suppose.”

  “Bearable?”

  With a low growl he slowly bent his head to touch his lips softly to her own. Jocelyn readily arched toward him. It was not a kiss of passion or physical need. Instead, it was a tender reassurance that they had survived the nightmare and managed to escape with their lives intact.

  For moments they clung to each other, drawing strength from the warm emotions that bonded them together.

  Then with obvious reluctance Lucien at last pulled back to carefully tuck a stray curl behind her ear.

  “Well?”

  “Mmm. Perhaps they are wondrous.”

  “That is considerably better.” His smile faded as he drew in a deep breath. “Ah, Jocelyn. I feared that you would never forgive me.”

  Her gaze dropped as she recalled her horror at discovering the truth that he was a vampire. It was not, after all, every day that a maiden discovered the gentleman she had tumbled into love with was not human, she acknowledged wryly.

  And, of course, there had been the fear that she had been played the fool once again. Echoes of the betrayal she had felt at the hands of Lord Patten had made her lash out with an instinctive need to protect herself from further pain.

  But Lucien had nothing in common with the shallow, absurdly idiotic Lord Patten.

  He had not been attempting to use her for his own pleasure. He did not consider her a mere object that was to be gained and then tossed aside when he grew weary of her.

  He had wanted only to protect her.

  And to bring a smile to her face.

  Realizing that he was regarding her with a growingly concerned expression, she offered him a smile.

  “I will admit that I was rather shocked to discover that you were not a simple rogue but a vampire in disguise.”

  His expression cleared at her light tone, his brows wiggling in a ridiculous fashion.

  “I prefer a roguish vampire.”

  “Indeed,” she said dryly.

  “I did not know how else to approach you, my sweet,” he confessed in rueful tones. “And in truth, I presumed that I would have returned to the Veil long before you would ever discover the truth. I did not consider the danger that you wgergergerould steal my heart.”

  “I believe you were the thief,” she promptly corrected him. “I was quite content with my quiet, uneventful life.”

  “Perhaps content, but not happy,” he murmured.

  “No. Not happy.”

  “And now?”

  Jocelyn paused. Wrapped snuggly in his arms, she felt warm and safe and utterly content. She loved this gentleman. And more than anything in the world, she wanted to know he would be at her side for the rest of her life.

  But even as she wanted to weep for joy at the thought that he love
d her, there was that annoyingly sensible part of her that forced her to recall that it was not so simple.

  This was not the usual sort of flirtation. And Lucien was not another London gentleman.

  For goodness’ sake, he was not even mortal.

  There were any number of difficulties that had to be confronted.

  “I do not know,” she said slowly.

  He furrowed his brow as he shifted, better to view her pale countenance. His movements were still awkward, and he could not entirely prevent his wince of pain. Jocelyn’s heart cringed at the savage attack she knew he must have endured.

  “What is it, Jocelyn?”

  “I—” She came to a helpless halt, uncertain how to put her vague concern into words.

  “Jocelyn?”

  “Amadeus is now dead,” she at last blurted out.

  His confusion only deepened. “Thank goodness.”

  “I am no longer in danger,” she continued in brittle tones. “There is nothing now to keep you in London.”

  “Ah.” His brow cleared as he realized the direction of her fears. “You are not attempting to get rid of me, are you, my sweet?”

  “Will you return to the Veil?” she abruptly demanded.

  His hands moved to tenderly cup her face. “No.”

  “But you said that the vampires now live—”

  “This is where I belong,” he interrupted in husky tones. “At your side.”

  She searched the handsome, elegant countenance that had become so dear to her. She was uncertain that she could bear the thought of him walking away and never returning. It would be as if she were losing a part of herself.

  And yet, was it fair to ask him to leave his home and his people to be with her? How much would he be forced to sacrifice for their love?

  “Is it allowed?” she hesitantly demanded.

  He smiled deep into her eyes. “I will demand that it be allowed.”

  “Does that mean you will become a mortal like me?”

  His low chuckle suddenly echoed through the dusty room, banishing at least a few of the heavy shadows.

  “I fear not. I shall always be a vampire. There is no cure.” He eyed her closely. “Does that trouble you?”

  It should have. It seemed utterly mad even to believe in vampires, let alone to consider offering him her heart.

  But as she gazed into those glorious golden eyes, she could see only the gentleman who had teased her to laughter, who had broken through her painful shell of isolation, and who had taught her that the past need not destroy her future.

  The gentleman she geen loved.

  “Not as long as it does not trouble you that I am a mere human,” she murmured with a faint smile.

  “A very lovely and desirable human,” he corrected her, his hands sweeping down her neck and moving over her tense shoulders.

  She shivered in pleasure, but even as she considered the audacious notion of leaning forward and tasting the sweetness of his lips, she was halted by a sudden thought.

  Lucien was a vampire. An Immortal, he had called himself. Eventually she would grow old and die, while he remained precisely the same.

  The thought made her heart grow cold.

  “But not forever, Lucien,” she said with a frown. “I am not an Immortal as you are. I will soon begin to age.”

  His countenance became a stern mask at her faltering words. “It does not matter, my sweet. I will love you regardless of your age.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Jocelyn.” The golden eyes blazed in the gloom. “A vampire bonds but once. And for all eternity. What I feel for you today I will feel for all the ages.”

  He had no doubt intended to comfort her with his stark revelation. To ensure that she would never doubt his commitment to her. But instead, her eyes widened with distress.

  She could not claim to understand the mysterious ways of vampires, but she did comprehend the knowledge that she could never burden Lucien with a love that would be fleeting at best.

  If he bonded himself to her, then he would spend an eternity grieving for her loss. It was unthinkable.

  “No, Lucien.” Pulling from his grasp, she regarded him with a stubborn expression. She would rather lose him than ask him to sacrifice himself in such a fashion. At least her pain would come to an end someday. “You cannot do this.”

  His brows lifted at her fierce tone. “What?”

  “I will not allow you to love me when I shall be with you for such a short time. It is not fair to you.”

  There was a moment of startled silence before Lucien tilted back his head to laugh with rich amusement.

  “You will not allow me to love you?” he teased. “It is far too late for such a warning, my sweet.”

  Jocelyn gave a shake of her head, wishing that he would for once not regard the world as a joke. This was a very serious matter.

  “But I will soon die and—”

  Her words were interrupted as the door to the castle was shoved open and an old woman attired as a gypsy stepped into the shadows.

  “Do not be so certain what the future might hold, Jocelyn,” she warned with a gentle smile. “It has yet to be written.”

  Utterly startled by the unexpected appearance of the old woman, Lucien struggled to gain his feet, only to discover he was far too weak.

  “Nefri,” he breathed.

  “Lucien, do not move,” the great vampire commanded, her numerous bracelets clicking in the musty air as she moved to retrieve the Medallion that had been nearly forgotten on the flagstones. Holding out the amulet, she moved to where Lucien was leaning heavily against the wall and gently pressed it to his cheek.

  At first Lucien felt no more than a gentle warmth flood through his body at the touch of the powerful artifact. Then the soothing sense of peace became a fiery flood as his numerous wounds began to knit togen toodther and his damaged muscles healed. He gritted his teeth, feeling as if he had been shoved roughly into a furnace that burned from within.

  At last he gave a shake of his head. “That is enough.”

  Nefri pulled the Medallion away, her wrinkled countenance filled with concern.

  “You are healed?”

  Lucien gingerly tested his arms and legs, discovering that the most grievous of his wounds had indeed been mended.

  “I believe so.”

  Nefri smiled, but there was a warning in her eyes. “You will still be weak for several days.”

  He gave a slow nod, already realizing that his strength was tenuous at best. Not surprising considering the wounds Amadeus had inflicted. He had been certain down in that dank cellar that he was about to face what no vampire should ever face.

  Death.

  A shudder raced through his body before he was sternly suppressing the dark memories. Jocelyn was right. The past was over and done. The future was all that mattered.

  A future with the woman he loved.

  “How did you follow us?” he demanded of the vampire.

  Nefri heaved a sad sigh, her gaze turning toward the darkened flagstones.

  “I felt the passing of Amadeus.”

  “Yes.” Lucien grimaced with regret. No matter what Amadeus had become in his madness, he was still a brother. It would take time to heal from his tragic loss. All vampires would mourn his passing. “He refused to return to the Veil.”

  Nefri turned back to lay a comforting hand upon his shoulder. “You did only what you had to do, Lucien. There was no choice.”

  He smiled wryly. “In truth it was Jocelyn who managed to bring an end to his madness.”

  “Ah.” The vampire turned to smile kindly at the silent woman at his side. “I did tell you that she possessed the strength necessary to wear the Medallion.”

  Lucien watched the rosy glow touch Jocelyn’s pale cheeks. It never failed to amaze him that she did not seem to realize just how special she was.

  That was something he intended to correct. Even if it took him an eternity.

  “So you did,”
he murmured.

  “Here, my dear.” Before Jocelyn could predict what the old woman was about to do, Nefri had swiftly slipped the Medallion back around her neck and fastened the clasp. “This belongs to you.”

  The blue eyes widened even as her fingers unconsciously rose to lightly stroke the amulet.

  “Oh, but surely there is no longer any need.”

  Surprisingly Nefri turned to glance about the shadows that still shrouded the room. Lucien could almost sense the puzzled wariness that filled the great vampire’s heart.

  “Although Amadeus is gone, there are still others who would claim the Medallion,” she at last admitted slowly, her expression troubled.

  Lucien could not ignore the chill that inched down his spine. He had wanted to believe that with the passing of Amadeus, Jocelyn was now safe. She had surely endured enough.

  But deep within him had been a lingering sense of unease.

  Amadeus may have been mad and obsessed with his studies, but he had never possessed the sort of courage necessary to defy the Great Council and Nefri herself. What had prom Whtrutpted him to believe he could succeed in such a foolish scheme? Or who?

  “There is still danger,” he at last said in flat tones.

  Nefri gave a slow nod of her head. “I fear so. I have come to believe there is more to these traitors than I initially suspected.”

  Lucien felt Jocelyn stiffen at his side, and he placed a comforting arm about her shoulders.

  “What would you have me do?” he demanded.

  Without warning a sudden smile touched the lined countenance. “For the moment, nothing more than to remain with Jocelyn.”

  “I intend to remain at her side for an eternity,” he vowed in low tones.

  His words hung defiantly in the shadowed air, and half expecting an argument, Lucien was caught off guard as Nefri instead reached out to touch both o

  f their heads in a silent blessing.

  “Then all will be well,” she retorted in soft tones. “Now, we should be away from here. I have brought you a carriage. It awaits outside.”

  Lucien struggled to his feet, pleased to discover that he could at least stand.

  “You will call upon me if there is a need?” he demanded.